Head in the Clouds
by Awesomellama
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are trying to stop the apocalypse. Which is why it's really not a good time for a broken Gabriel to show up at their motel room. But that's what happens, and Sam finds himself trying to turn a crushed shell of a person back into the sassy trickster he once was. And so this feeling in his stomach is just a need to protect the helpless, right? (Sabriel, S5)
1. Stolen

**_Hi!_**

 ** _It's me. You know, the author of this story. Here I am, in the bolded and italicized font. This font is an important thing to know, because I really like author's notes. I think I'm pretty awesome in writing. In real life conversations, not so much._**

 ** _So, I guess you could say this is my first Supernatural fanfiction. Well, no. I have random oneshots and pieces of stories written all over Google Docs and Microsoft word and the notes app on my phone and my physics homework. But none of those are anywhere near ready to be posted. 99% are full of random Fall Out Boy lyrics (seriously I listen to music while writing so a bunch of story drafts are like "Dean! Get the holy WHEN ROME'S IN RUINS WE ARE THE LIONS FREE OF THE COLISEUM water!"), So this is my first official one._**

 ** _You may have noticed this is a bit of an overused idea. Yeah, it kind of is. But although it's used often, I think it's still a good one, and I like writing dramatic hurt/comfort fics. Actually, they often turn out something like 90% hurt and 10% comfort, but that's besides the point. What I'm trying to say is making Gabriel falling apart is definitely my cup of tea._**

 ** _Oh, and also I asked a bunch of people on Google+ what their preference was between 2 Sabriel ideas, and this one won by a landslide. The other idea was a good one, though, so that'll be coming out after this one's done._**

 ** _I know you're probably tired of hearing me talk. Or, more accurately, reading about me talking. Hearing the voice in your head tell you what I'm saying. Well, except I'm not actually saying any of this out loud. Hmmm. I'll think about that later._**

 ** _Soooooo one more small thing before we get this show on the road: the update schedule. Updates will happen every 2 weeks. Maybe once I finish Forever is a Long Time, which is my main fic at the moment (btw to any FIALT readers I'm so sorry I haven't updated I've had so much going on and I got sidetracked writing other stuff and urgh), I'll be able to update more often. Also, schedules may change, because I'm in 8_** ** _th_** ** _grade so I'm applying to a bunch of high schools and stuff so I've got extra work to do. Uhg._**

 ** _And I don't own Supernatural (duh). If I did I wouldn't be writing this on a computer from 2008._**

 ** _Ummmm I don't think I have anything else to say. First chapters always feel really awkward._**

 ** _Oh yeah this story is rated T for some language cause I'm paranoid._**

 ** _Okay I'm done talking you may rejoice._**

 _210… or was that 201?_ Gabriel's eyes were bleary from tears and lack of sleep. _Sleep_. _I need sleep_. Just the word made him shudder, and he slapped himself on the cheek as if he could hit the horrible reality away.

Of course he couldn't, and all the gesture really did was cause pain, which just reminded him of his predicament more. He could have pain now. He could die. Should die. Would die, in just a few short years. Because that's what humans did, right? Die. Gabriel should know. He was often the cause of it.

Back when he could be.

Back when he was powerful.

Back when he was invincible _._

He wished more than anything that this were all a dream. That he would wake up in a small mountain of feather pillows, a cake in his to his right and a woman to his left. But that wasn't going to happen, and Gabriel knew it. Angels didn't dream. Angels didn't sleep. Angels didn't have searing pain in their backs. Angels didn't stumble down hallways, searching for the motel rooms of the only people who might be willing to help them.

He realized he'd kept walking as he thought all this, and had stopped checking the door numbers. He looked up from the geometrically patterned carpet to the nearest door. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but after a moment he thought he could make out the number 224 in gold lettering. _224\. That's… two doors away from 228? Or three? Is this really what a human brain is like?_

A few doors down, he found it. 228. He reached his hand to knock, but the fatigue was too much for even that, and all he had the strength to do was take one more step forward before everything turned black.

Cold.

Gabriel had come to know temperature in the past few days. What he was feeling now was cold. But it was a strange cold. When he'd had felt cold before, it was all over his body, though extra strong in his fingers, toes, and nose. But this cold was only on his head and shoulders.

The word came to him after a few seconds. Wet. There was water on him. It spiraled down strands of his hair and dripped onto his torn and ruined jacket. Some drops snuck under his clothes and ran down his back and chest in tiny streams. _I used to be able to make rivers,_ he thought, _and now they're all over me. Taking me over. Possessing me._

He knew vaguely that he should open his eyes to investigate his surroundings, but his eyelids were just so heavy…

More water.

Crashing down on his head, completely soaking him. He finally managed to force his eyes open, and was met with a blurry mass of orange, his vision obscured by water and lack of sleep. His eyes stung, and he reached up to rub them. "Looks like sleeping beauty's finally awake," said a voice. Gabriel knew distantly that it was actually at a normal volume, but for some reason the sound seemed ear-shatteringly loud.

When his bleary eyes adjusted to the light and the dull throbbing in his head subsided a little, he recognized the orange as fire. Holy fire. He almost laughed. Actually, he might've laughed. He didn't know. Everything felt so strange, as if he were swimming through molasses (he'd tried that once. It tasted awesome, but it made everything seem as if it were in slow motion. This was like that, except the molasses was inside his thoughts, making everything sluggish and confusing.)

"So, you gonna tell us why we shouldn't stab you?" asked the voice, which Gabriel now dully recognized as Dean Winchester. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from the flames and sat up so he could look at the two brothers standing just outside of the fiery circle.

He knew he should say something, but opening his mouth proved to be too hard in his current state, so he just stared up at the two men. He felt detached from the world, like he was in a trance. _Am I dead? Maybe I'm dead._ Honestly, the prospect didn't upset him much.

After a few seconds of awkward staring, Dean spoke again. "Okay, I guess we'll have to get Cas and his badass angel knife."

Sam squinted at Gabriel. "Dean, I think something's wrong."

"What, you mean like the fact that an archangel managed to find our motel room and faint against the door? Yeah, Sam, pretty friggin weird. Which is why we need the knife."

"No, Dean, not that. I mean how he's not doing anything. Shouldn't he be spouting some cocky comebacks by now?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's our lucky day. Now are we going to interrogate him or what?"

Gabriel hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Sam was right. If he were the old Gabriel, he would pull a cocky grin and smooth talk his way out of this. Then he'd snap his fingers and go eat some candy and continue on his never-ending quest to put arrogant dicks in their rightful place.

But if he were the old Gabriel, he wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place.

If he were the old Gabriel, he wouldn't have heavy eyelids and a growling stomach.

He had just realized his eyes were closed again when a deep voice sounded from the side of the ring of fire opposite the Winchesters. "You won't be needing an angel blade, Dean."

"Cas! Whaddya mean we don't need an angel blade? You got another way to hurt an archangel?" Dean asked. Gabriel blinked and craned his neck to face the angel. _I used to be above him. Better than and angel. Now look at me._

"Gabriel is not an archangel," Castiel replied. _Was that pity in his voice?_ Gabriel hoped he'd imagined it. _He can't feel sympathy for me! I'm stronger than him! I'm an archangel!_

 _At least, I was an archangel._

Dean shook his head in confusion. "What? Cut the cryptic shit, Cas. We really-"

Dean's annoyed speech was cut off when Sam put a hand on his arm. "Dean, I think Cas means that he…" the taller brother trailed off, glancing at Gabriel to get some confirmation for his suspicions.

Gabriel closed his eyes, as if it could block out the truth. But it was still there, screaming in his mind. He stared at the mesmerizing flames as he forced himself to croak out his first words since It had happened. "I… my grace…" he swallowed, "my grace was stolen."


	2. Penguin

**_HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEN I was a ghost and I tried to get my friend to chase me around with a saltshaker but she was dressed as a steampunk pirate and couldn't run_** ** _L_** ** _I did still scream whenever I saw a saltshaker though XD_**

 ** _You might notice that I changed the title. I decided I didn't like the old one._**

 ** _Also, the last chapter was from Gabriel's POV. Well, sort of. Technically this is third person, but I was definitely leaning more on talking about Gabriel's thoughts and feelings. So this chapter follows Sam. I guess I'll kind of alternate between them._**

 ** _And wooooaaaaah 9 follows after only one chapter. I was not expecting that._**

 ** __**Dean was the one to break the shocked silence. "Your grace is gone," he repeated, peering down at the archangel (or, more accurately, ex-archangel), who was still staring dazedly at the flames surrounding him. "Well, I've always found flightless birds fairly useless-"

"Dean, shut up," Sam interrupted; causing the older Winchester raised an eyebrow. Sam sighed. "Just…" he glanced towards the street at the end of the alley.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked to the trench coat wearing angel still standing on the other side of Gabriel's enclosure. "Cas, watch the penguin. My brother here needs to overwork his moral compass."

As soon as they rounded the corner, Dean halted and crossed his arms. "No, Sam."

"Dean-"

"Are you forgetting everything he did to us?"

"No, but-"

"No buts, Sam! He killed me over 100 times, not to mention the countless other people he's murdered! He made you do a genital herpes commercial!"

"But we save people, Dean! That's what we do!"

"Yeah, emphasis on 'people.' He's a friggin archangel! A rogue archangel murderer, at that."

"Not anymore."

"Sam! We're hunters, not babysitters!"

Sam let out a slow exhale before speaking again. "Look. I'm not saying he hasn't done bad stuff. I don't even really like him, but maybe he could help us stop the impending apocalypse."

"Yeah, because he was just so happy to help when we asked him before. He doesn't care about this world, Sam."

"You sure about that?"

"Did you miss the part where we were stuck in a sitcom? Here's a refresher: _hell._ And I should know."

"I know he didn't want to take sides then. But who do you think took his grace?"

It took a moment for the theory to sink in. "You one of them did it? For what, punishment?"

"Who else could've?"

Dean ran a hand through his short hair, and Sam knew he'd won (those few years of pre-law really paid off sometimes.) "Fine. But he's your problem, okay?"

"I know. Must uphold masculinity," Sam replied, deepening his voice in mocking of his brother's insistent denial of anything that could be considered even remotely unmanly.

"You- uhg. I'm going for a drink," Dean muttered, starting off in the direction of what Sam assumed was the nearest bar (somehow Dean always knew where he could get drunk, as if he possessed some sort of superhuman alcohol radar).

"What? Did I hit a nerve?" Sam called with as smirk as he turned back towards the alley containing his… whatever Gabriel was (guest? Prisoner? Charge?).

Sam nodded to Cas and the angel disappeared, undoubtedly relieved to get back to his countless other duties in heaven. He then picked up the last of the 3 buckets of water he and Dean had brought out (they'd already used two to wake up the archangel). Gabriel seemed to shrink away from the water as sloshed it over the circle to staunch the flames.

When the last of the fire had fizzled out, Sam held out his hand to the shivering form still sitting on the pavement. "Dean said you could stay."

Gabriel looked up, his whiskey-colored eyes meeting Sam's for the first time. "I don't need your help."

"So you'll just stay out here and starve?" Sam replied, keeping his hand outstretched. The archangel (or, more accurately, ex-archangel. That would take some getting used to) looked warily at the appendage, as if he expected it to explode, and made no move to take it. After about a minute of awkward staring, Sam stood back up and crossed his arms. "Fine. I tried," he said with a shrug, turning to walk up the alley and back to the hotel.

As expected, just before he reached the corner, Sam heard the soft patter of footsteps catching up with him.

Sam stepped into the empty hotel room, Gabriel following close behind him. The shorter man looked uncomfortable, and he was still shivering. He jumped a little when Sam flicked on the lights, and again when closed the door, seemingly startled by any slight change in atmosphere.

"You hungry?" Sam asked, mostly to break the silence. The ex-archangel perked up, his face eager, before he seemed to remember his pride and feign nonchalance. Sam sighed at the ineffective display of hubris, but didn't comment on it, and instead went over to the kitchenette (yep, they had an actual stove this time. This room was slightly fancier than their usual ones since they somehow hadn't been able to find a cheaper place. Maybe it could even be called a hotel instead of a motel. Sam didn't really know the difference, come to think of it) and proceeded to search the mini fridge for an at least somewhat adequate dinner.

Though the fridge was lacking in all but beer and a small jar of lamb's blood (hunting the supernatural often called for some strange substances), Sam managed to find a slightly dented can of chicken noodle soup in the bottom of a duffle bag. He dug out an old saucepan and poured in the contents of the can.

As he waited for the soup to boil, Sam switched his attention back to his, for lack of a better word, guest. Gabriel had sunk to the floor near one of the beds, and he appeared to be scratching at the dingy carpet with his fingernails, which were ragged and chewed.

The more Sam watched the ex-archangel, the less he believed that this broken shell would be able to help hunt down and kill Lucifer. Still, he couldn't just kick him out now.

"Soup'll be ready in 10. You wanna go take a shower?" Sam asked, gesturing towards the white door that led to the bathroom. The ex-archangel was filthy; his golden hair practically caked with grime. He looked uncomprehending, but just as Sam opened his mouth to repeat the suggestion; Gabriel pushed himself to his feet and shuffled away in the direction of the bathroom.

Sam waited until he heard the faint sound of the shower being turned on before pulling out two bowls and checking the soup. Watching the silver shine of the spoon disappear beneath the lukewarm broth, his mind had just begun to wander when he heard a loud thump emanate from behind the aforementioned white door.

He knocked lightly. "You okay?" When there was no response, the tall man tried again, a little louder, and got the same result. After a few more attempts, he instinctively kicked the door open. Admittedly, that was not one of his brighter ideas, but he was hoping Dean wouldn't be too angry since the ex-archangel had the potential to be a valuable ally.

This "valuable ally" was found lying on the no doubt germ-ridden tiles of the bathroom floor, streams of water dripping off his naked body and into a fast-growing puddle underneath him. He scrambled into a sitting position as soon as Sam (rather dramatically) entered the room and was obviously trying to look casual, but of course it was no use. The ex-archangel looked… broken. Not sad, just empty, as if a huge piece of his personality had been carved out, which, Sam realized, it had.

The shower was still running, and Sam knew he should turn it off, but instead he found himself sitting down beside the huddled form of the shorter man. "Did you slip on a puddle?" he asked gently.

Instead of answering, Gabriel asked his own question, his hoarse voice hostile. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I think you know."

Gabriel didn't respond, but Sam could tell that he understood. Sensing that the conversation was over, the hunter stood up and turned off the shower as he should've done earlier. Without the drum of fast-moving jets of water hitting the porcelain tub, the room was much too quiet. The lack of noise also allowed them to hear a quiet sizzling emanating from the kitchenette. "Shit! The soup!" Sam exclaimed, racing over to the small stove.

The broth was scalding hot, and some of it had escaped the saucepan through bubbling over or evaporation. Still, it didn't look too bad, and Sam managed to get two bowlfuls out of it. When he'd gotten fairly equal amounts into the bowls, the younger Winchester went back to the bathroom.

Gabriel was staring at the wall, and he didn't seem to have moved. "Put on some clothes. Dinner's ready," Sam announced.

The ex-archangel turned, and Sam followed his gaze to a small pile of torn fabric that vaguely resembled clothes. "Okay. Put on your boxers. I'll find something for you to wear."

Even Sam's smallest shirt could probably fit a horse, but it would have to do. The hunter pulled a red flannel shirt (plaid, of course) out of his duffle and brought it into the bathroom and draped it over Gabriel's shoulders. The ex-archangel managed to get his arms in the sleeves, but gazed helplessly at the buttons. Sam knelt, the large puddle on the floor soaking the worn knees of his jeans, and did the buttons himself.

Sam stepped back to admire his handiwork. The shorter man was practically swimming in the shirt, but at least he was no longer naked (understandably, the nudity had been making Sam feel a bit awkward) and he'd stopped shivering. Of course, Gabriel was far from all right. Throughout the entire clothing ordeal, he'd stared at the same tile on the floor and hadn't spoken a word. There was still a blank vacantness in his once sparkling eyes. And so Sam found himself asking, yet again:

Did he really believe this broken shell was going to be any help?

 ** _That was mostly filler but GABRIEL WEARING SAM'S SHIRT OH MY GOD_**


	3. ANNOUNCEMENTS (not an update sorry)

**_So this is not an update_** ** _L_** ** _. I probably won't update until December because I am attempting to do NaNoWriMo (if you don't know what that is, basically I'm trying to write a 50,000 word story in a month) Emphasis on "attempting", since I'm 15 days in and I've only got 5,160 words. But it's fun, so I'm not giving up. I actually have no idea what I'm going to do with the story I'm writing if and when I finish it. Maybe I'll post it on Wattpad or something. I was thinking of editing it a ton and attempting to get published but I'm not even in high school yet so I don't think that would work out very well, plus I'm not sure my writing's good enough._**

 ** _Anyway, I won't be able to update this fic until NaNoWriMo is over. I was trying to but NaNoWriMo + physics homework + high school applications + fanfiction is just too much. So yeah see you (or at least write to you) in December._**

 ** _On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of renaming this fanfiction. I actually made a poll of it, which I posted on my profile ( ~awesomellama it's right on the top of the page) so yeah please vote on that because I can't decide.  
_**

 ** _K bai_**


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